PART FOUR– Bernalillo to Moon River (cont.)
The unknown brings fear to some. To others there comes a sense of excitement and adventure, especially if they believe that all will be well in the end.
Added to the blessings of excitement and adventure are surprise and elation when it is discovered that the journey has been internal, and the unknown none other than the pioneer himself.
Pioneers we are and nothing else.
Strange country we’re compelled to tread;
Hostile inhabitants deplore our presence;
We take their ground from under them.
Of our own kind there are but few;
The farther we advance, the fewer there are.
We go on and on until there are none;
Front lines are the goal for us all.
Where we stand no one has come
To comfort and to hold our hand
Except for the Great One, The Pioneer
Who has blazed the trail alone.
Irony of ironies, where does that trail lead?
To bush and barren place, a land of dire need?
But no, it leads us home at last
Where rest prevails and torment is past.
I thought I entered rest when I was first converted… and I had! Compared to the former horrible state of darkness and misery, the realm of repentance was glorious and restful indeed. But I had not arrived.
Then came trials, urgings, and purgings leading to the receiving of God’s Spirit. Again, the realm of the Spirit was glorious compared to the one of repentance, and I rested as revelations came and great burdens were lifted and removed forever. But I hadn’t arrived.
Chapters opened and closed and rest came at the end of each, yet beginnings introduced new fires, new terms of correction and purgings so that I could rest some more. But I had yet to arrive.
Then came a breaking at the hands of dark men. Healings poured in. Sight was increased and lifestyle corrected. We were blessed and we rested. Still, we hadn’t arrived.
Years later, I had the severest trial I had ever had, likened by the Lord to that which Job had, yet aware of the great contrast with Job’s in that his was supremely severe, losing all his ten children, possessions, and health within an hour, besides being subjected to nightmares, sleeplessness, and faultfinding friends for company. Job’s suffering was classical, for our sakes. Nevertheless, I was taken right back to my very foundation and was now different than before.
Years passed again and I found I knew neither rest nor fires like they could be. In fire, I again writhed in pain. Rest comes in small doses and brief intervals, only to prepare one for more fire. (He that walks with God walks in fire, until there is no more need of fire.)
Today, God is all in all. Those who enter rest not only have it; they are the rest. This is the Sabbath of rest; this is the Feast of Tabernacles; this is that glorious union with the Lord Jesus Christ, Yahushua Adonai HaMashiach. It is His coming. This is the Day of the Lord, the Day of Vengeance, the Day of Yahweh, the Day of Yeshuah HaMashiach. Blessed be His Name!
(This poem was written years before the reality. Many of the utterings of the spiritual sojourner are not merely poetic, but prophetic, even as with David in his psalms.)
How good is this rest, my Lord, my God!
How good is this rest!
To sit and wait with nothing in hand,
To be patient and willing to see what’s in store,
To know in the heart that all is Yours;
How good it is to rest!
We’ve been climbing and struggling,
Working and crying,
With nothing in sight,
With all things far off,
With hopes deferred, promises delayed,
Dreams and hopes dashed to the ground,
Shattered in many pieces.
We have lost and failed
Toiling for unreachable gains.
But now we have our gain;
Now we have received our rewards.
Little did we know that we labored
For the goal of
Not having to labor.
Now we recline, now we rest;
In repose we have a new heart.
We can be patient, resting in
The bosom of Abraham;
Children of faith we have now become.
Yes, though the earth is removed,
We know that Abraham needs no earth
To hold him up.
In his bosom, we have no need
To plant our feet on passing ground.
We have our feet on solid rock;
We sit in His throne with Him;
We repose in heavenly places;
At peace we are within,
Because nothing can remove us
From the safety we now have.
We see how little we have to fear;
We see how He provides.
“God is faithful!” are the words
Embedded in our hearts.
Our heart can no longer live without them.
God is all and over all;
We’ve sought to know that for years,
With head knowledge and lips;
We believed, but didn’t know.
Give me the couch.
I have had the ladder;
I’ve climbed to the mountains of rest.
Let me repose; it is heavenly bliss,
The reward we have for our labors.
We have ceased from our works;
We have ceased from sin;
We have ceased from worry and fright.
God grant us this life forevermore;
May we be staid in His sight.
Thank You, Lord, for giving us rest,
For so long we have sought
The rest You give those who seek after You
To reign and be at peace.
No longer do enemies rule over us;
No longer do our needs hold sway;
The protection and provision
Which we now have of God
Are as a two-edged sword.
First He gives us the privilege,
And then He gives us the goods;
First He gives it within,
And then He grants it without.
Death has no sting;
The grave has lost;
The resurrection is robber and healer at once;
We are the goods He has wrested from Hell,
Repaired for Himself for all time.
Sing with the angels!
Dance with the saints!
Let Heaven explode with joy!
Celebration and feasting have fearful cause;
Nothing can stand in their way!
Sing, O creation and clap your hands!
Your smile has purpose unsurpassed!
This is your day and your hour
For deliverance from groaning and grief,
From vanity and awesome oppression,
From death and Hell itself.
A manifest son of God has risen
To set the captive free,
To heal the broken-hearted,
To take away burdens of the oppressed.
Sing and dance and jump for joy!
Eat, drink, and be merry!
No greater cause is there for such
When a saint has entered his glory.
There is a rest for the people of God!
No more thorn and thistle and briar;
No more toil and sweat and tear;
No more disappointment.
There is the restoration of Eden,
The blessed garden of God.
There is wealth and the glory and power
Reserved unto those who believe.
Rest, O sweet, wonderful rest,
In peace and holy comfort!
Earned, not earned, taken yet given
But appreciated nonetheless.
Fearful are the ways and judgments of God!
How high and mighty His ways!
Lift up your knees and your arms;
Lift up your head, sojourner,
Travel-weary and bruised you may be,
Robbed of your goods and your dreams,
Abandoned, alone with nobody
To care or understand.
But He is there though He is hid,
Until the day of unveiling.
And when the veil is rent in two
From Heaven to Earth,
Then no more flesh stands in the way;
Of the Christ there is no more dearth.
There is rest in the room of the Ark;
There is perfect sweetest rest.
Here in the bosom of Abraham,
Jesus is manifest.
Keep His commandments and never say die;
There is a time to come
Where cost transforms to benefit untold
And all is then worthwhile.
And, carnal man, you must be told
That though I write from Heaven,
Yet I am in my flesh ‘til now
And speak by such a mouth as yours.
The change has come this side of the grave
And needn’t be hoped for only beyond.
Inherit the earth, my beloved friends,
And savor the sweet rest of God!
Things are seldom, if ever, as they appear. This is because two factors obscure the reality: One, the object of the observation seldom conducts itself outwardly as it really is within or behind the scenes. Two, the ability on the part of the observer is limited at most times, so that he isn’t able to see as he ought to.
Woe to the one who tries to acquire that which he desires by giving the appearance of either getting it or already having it.
Truth in the inward parts is not only the desired end, but the means to that end.
“I am the way, the truth, and the life….”
Child of fullness and plenty, have you any idea
How empty you may be?
Your stomach is filled
Your laugh is hollow.
Child of laughter and merriment, have you any idea
How sad you are?
Your heart has a notion
Of sorrow on the way.
You scoff at you know not what.
Child of scorn and scoffing, have you any idea
How the arrows you shoot reverse?
Your own conscience tells you
Of condemnation imminent.
That which you don’t understand.
Child of pride and knowledge, have you any idea
Of your ignorance and foolishness?
You know it all
But not as well as you are known.
For mercy – you have none.
Child of prayer and fasting, have you any idea
How full you will yet be?
You are now empty
On the way to fullness.
Your tears are not in vain.
Child of weeping and sorrow, have you any idea
How happy you will yet be?
Your heart is filled
Your crying is soon to end… in laughter.